Chapter 5

The date for her overseas treatment was set. Time was running out.

Before she disappeared, she had to reclaim the last piece of her mother. Those jewelry design manuscripts—sketched through countless sleepless nights, poured over with love and obsession—could not be left rotting in the hands of that vile woman and her daughter.

Thirty minutes later, the Maybach pulled up to the Gonzalez estate.

Camila pushed through the front door without knocking.

The living room blazed with light. Victor sat on the leather sofa with an espresso in hand, while her stepmother, Mandy Ward, perched beside him, murmuring something in a low voice, a calculating smile playing across her lips.

Both looked up at the sound of the door.

The moment Victor saw Camila standing there alone, his smile evaporated. His brow furrowed. "It's late. What are you doing here? Where's Stanley?"

He craned his neck to peer past her, confirming her husband hadn't followed. His tone cooled instantly.

"I'm here for my mother's belongings. Her manuscripts." Camila didn't waste a breath on pleasantries. She crossed to the coffee table and fixed Victor with a stare cold enough to frost glass. "Laura came to see me today. Since you're the one holding them—hand them over."

Victor set his cup down hard. The porcelain struck marble with a dull crack.

"Is that how you speak to your father?" He drew himself up, pulling rank like a weapon. "Laura went out of her way to visit you today, and what did you do? Threw yourself down the stairs to frame her, then had Stanley throw her out! Camila, you've become insufferably arrogant."

Camila's lips twitched—a ghost of a smile that held nothing but contempt.

Framed her. If she hadn't been lucky, that fall would have cost her the baby growing inside her. The baby no one knew about.

"Save it." Nausea rolled through her in a violent wave. She clenched her jaw, forcing the sickness down, and kept her voice flat as a blade. "Give me what's mine. I'll leave, and you'll never see me walk through that door again."

"Now, Camila, that's no way to talk." Mandy adjusted the cashmere wrap draped over her shoulders, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

She rose, circling Camila like a vulture assessing carrion, her gaze raking over Camila's pale complexion. "You look dreadful, darling. Life with the Martinez family not treating you well? Then again—three years of marriage and not a single child to show for it. I hear Baron was absolutely furious tonight." She clicked her tongue in mock sympathy. "If I were you, I'd have been too humiliated to show my face there long ago."

Camila's eyes cut to her like a scalpel. "Whether I stay or go is none of your concern. You don't get to lecture me—not when you clawed your way into this family on your back."

"You—!" Mandy's face twisted, the barb striking bone. But she recovered quickly, a triumphant smirk sliding back into place. "So what if I was the other woman? I'm the lady of this house now. And my daughter—my daughter is delivering. Laura's carrying a Martinez heir. Stanley adores her. But you?" She let the question hang, poisonous and sweet. "What do you have besides a title you can't live up to?"

She sauntered back to Victor's side, threading her arm through his, her voice turning conspiratorial. "Look at her, Victor. That attitude. Laura's pregnant—she's fragile, she shouldn't have to deal with this stress. We need to settle things, don't we?"

Victor patted Mandy's hand. He cleared his throat, and when he looked at Camila, his eyes held the cold calculation of a man who'd never seen a relationship he couldn't monetize.

"Camila, since we're all being frank tonight—let me be direct." He leaned back against the cushions, adopting the magnanimous tone of someone offering charity. "Your mother's things. I'll give them to you. But you need to be smart about this."

Camila stared at the man who was, by biology alone, her father. The last ember of warmth she'd ever held for him guttered and died.

"Smart," she repeated. "And what does smart look like to you?"

"File for divorce. Voluntarily. Step aside and let Laura take your place as Mrs. Martinez." Victor spoke as if he were negotiating a routine business deal—nothing personal, just numbers on a spreadsheet. "You can't have children. The Martinez family will never accept you long-term. Laura is carrying Martinez blood—that's an undeniable fact. You step down gracefully, everyone saves face."

He paused, then added his final clause: "Of course, when you file, you'll make it clear to Stanley that you're the one at fault. And you'll guarantee that Martinez Capital's investments in Gonzalez Group remain untouched. Every project, every dollar. Agree to that, and I'll hand over your mother's manuscripts personally."

Camila looked at the two people in front of her—their greed so naked it was almost impressive—and felt a laugh building in her chest. Not amusement. Something far darker.

This was her father.

Her biological father.

Willing to sell her out without a second thought for the sake of his illegitimate daughter's social climb and his company's bottom line. Willing to weaponize her dead mother's legacy as a bargaining chip.

"Victor." The laugh finally escaped—soft, humorless, with an edge that could draw blood. "Have you lost your mind?"

She straightened her spine, her gaze slicing across them both like a blade drawn from its sheath. "You're holding my mother's work hostage to force me to step aside for your mistress's daughter? The sheer audacity. I'd be impressed if it weren't so pathetic."

"Watch your mouth!" Victor shot to his feet, jabbing a finger toward her face.

"Am I wrong?" Camila didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Every word landed with surgical precision. "Mandy crawled into your bed while my mother was pregnant. Drove her into such despair she threw herself off a balcony. And now her daughter is doing the exact same thing—seducing my husband. Mother was the mistress, daughter is the mistress. The Gonzalez family tradition of homewrecking—truly a generational talent."

The words detonated like a grenade in Mandy's chest.

"You bitch!" Mandy's composure shattered completely. She lunged forward with a shriek, her face contorted into something barely human, hand raised to strike Camila across the face.

Camila's eyes went cold. She shifted her weight to dodge—but Victor grabbed Mandy's arm first, yanking her back. Not out of any protective instinct toward his daughter. He simply couldn't afford a scene that might spiral beyond his control.

"You worthless little whore—just like your pathetic mother!" Mandy thrashed against Victor's grip, stabbing her finger at Camila, venom pouring from her lips like something feral. "You think you're better than us? You think Stanley actually loves you? Keep dreaming!"